your silence will not protect you

Tag: lust

You shift in your sleep, your knee moving to rest against my thigh. I stiffen as you exhale and tuck your head beneath the crook of my neck. I tentatively inhale, your hair tickling my nose. I’m enveloped in your scent as I lie here, awake in your bed. Acoustic rock had lulled us to sleep, and later, had woken us up. You must’ve turned it off at some point.

I want to roll over, but I’m afraid to move. More than that, I’m afraid you’ll move away. I would prefer to remain close to you, but I’m still unsure if that’s where you want me to be. I’m also unsure if I would be crossing a boundary if I got closer.

You roll over, turning away from my neck. I roll over to face the wall. Your leg, however, finds mine again.

This is an extremely raw write…I wrote this over the course of several days back in April-March…tears always stung my eyes as I added a couple of lines on my way to class or when I couldn’t focus on studying…I could edit this and clean it up, but I kind of like how…raw and therefore rough it is. I feel like it helps depict my mentality at that time…jagged edges and ill-fitting puzzle pieces.

At this point, I’m only torturing myself

Because I know well

That nothing will become of this.

I don’t want it to anyway

This relationship would drive

myself crazy

Because you’re too lazy

To treat me right

And you’re a vault

Locked up tight

I must love how you hurt me

Because I’m not coming undone from your touch

No

Only you get satisfied

So why do I keep entanglingmyself

In these cheap affairs

There’s nothing in it for me

In the end

We’re not going to last

I think I rather be alone

Than be with you and feel miserable

Our relationship isn’t transparent

And there isn’t a point in talking about it anymore

Since it’ll only fall on deaf ears

Like what has happened before

It’s exhausting trying to one-up you

I’m killing myself so you can’t

But there isn’t a point

Since I can’t accomplish anything if I’m dead

We aren’t friends

We don’t know how to be friends

I’ve known all of this for awhile now

Ever since I realized you aren’t lonely

You just want someone to fuck

Or a thing

I lose my autonomy with you

As you pursue sexual satisfaction

I remain still for you

Your hands graze my body

And penetrate me

To please you

And you alone

I am enough

You’re not allowed to make me feel less than

But I’m not gonna stop entertaining your texts

And I won’t stop spending the night

Until you stop inviting me

Because ending the hurricane that we are

Means also ending the rainbow in my life

I’m not really part of anything

A stray leaf floating through branches covered in leaves that match each other

The last couple weeks of the semester has caused me to feel glum due to stress over my academics as well as my social life. To sum it up: I am in the middle. The in-between. The grey area.

Every aspect of my life seems to fit that description. My sexuality and race/ethnicity, as noted in this post, my affiliated religion (I don’t identify as anything, I just don’t think about it), my majors (WGS and Economics)..I can’t seem to ever fall into one, absolute category. Perhaps it’s because I’m going and I’m still discovering myself and the world or perhaps it’s a false pretense that people can ever fall into one category. Regardless, this thought also applies to my friends.

I don’t have a clique or group of friends. Every time I think I do, I get proven wrong. It’s exhausting, hurtful, and lonely. I was complaining to my good friend, Steph, about it and she told me it was okay to be an outsider in the sense I don’t belong anywhere, I just have random friends here and there. She said I have years to figure out the friends I want to be making and who stays in my life too. She’s right but..I think the nature of college is extremely lonely without a group. Without a group, you tend to get left out and excluded. At least that’s been my experience. If I commuted, for example, I probably wouldn’t care at all about lacking a social circle.

Anyway..I’m writing because despite how much I feel like an outsider, a misfit, a loner, or whatever it may be, I’ve done some pretty badass things. Perhaps I wouldn’t have done them if I didn’t feel so alone.

Of course, he had decided to take the highway. There was no traffic on the highway, so there was no stopping. He must’ve known that if there was an opportunity to jump out of the car, I would’ve taken it.

I slumped down further in the passenger seat, my arms crossed over my body protectively as his words sliced through my skin. He said we were having this conversation because he loves me, but I wasn’t feeling loved at all. It wasn’t even a conversation; it was a lecture. A lecture about me. About what’s wrong with me.

My best friend at college, Tatiana,* is amazing. She understands that I don’t want to hang out with the guy I mentioned in my previous post. He usually texts me but he’s stopped because he’s fucking other women, which proves he was only talking to me because I was willing to hook up with him. We were never friends, and we’re not friends now.

Anywho, she understands how I feel about him, and she knows how I want to connect more with her boyfriend because he’s super cool, so she brought us all together to go out to eat dinner and then party. I had so much fun, I got super drunk. We all took our shirts off and we were dancing on each other and it was just a ton of fun. I ended up going home with them because I was too drunk to navigate my way back home. Tatiana passed out and her boyfriend and I talked about the guy that they’re both best friends with and that has only made me feel like garbage, because he wanted to know what was going on. It was a great conversation, despite both of us being super drunk. Having that conversation caused me to want to do some snooping on my ex. My drunken logic was if she could treat me poorly and find love, then there is hope for me too, although it’s taking a hella long time for someone to come around.

The next day, Tatiana came home with me for spring break. She only spent Friday night at my house before flying back home to California. We went out to eat dinner because she’s vegetarian and I didn’t tell my mom, so my mom was ill prepared to feed her. My old job has very good black bean burgers, so we went there. I hadn’t been there in about eight months or so. The last time I worked there, only two people from the “original squad” were still working there, so I didn’t think I would see anyone I knew. Well, I was mistaken because the first person I saw when my friend and I strolled in was my ex. She was taking orders at the register.

I don’t want to hook up with him. I never cum. Because I don’t let him touch me. Because he doesn’t make me feel safe because he’s aggressive in a nonconsensual way. I also don’t want to enjoy it. Because then I will begin to actually like him. And I can’t like him because he doesn’t like me. And he’s too similar to my ex anyway.

Regardless, once the weekend rolls around and I’ve had enough drinks, I am all over him. And then I wake up naked and alone, feeling stupid.